When The Wicked Are Young
by Roxi2Star
Summary: When several people are dragged down by themselves and/or society, how will they react to being brought together in a whole new way?
1. Move Your Body

**When The Wicked Are Young**

By: CorXCore

{That's right! We are back! For now.}

**Move Your Body**

_Chapter One_

Gilbert had long since decided that the clothes weren't important. The drinks weren't important. What was important was the music. If the music was good, he could dance. And when he danced, he lost himself. When he lost himself, he lost the memories. He could never lose himself in the fruit drinks everyone always seemed to want to buy him. Okay, so maybe the drink was a little important.

The music. It had been a long time since he'd heard the song, but he smiled. It was a sweet song. He smiled, closed him eyes, and drowned.

As he collapsed, panting, into a bar stool, it occurred to him that all he wanted was to go back to Germany. They knew how to party in Germany. Dubstep was just reaching America, and it was awfully tame stuff what filtered in, and jumpstyle was nigh unheard of.

Glazed eyes slid across the selection behind the bar. Thinking of Germany had made him remember the old country and his own destruction. The thought made him remember the destruction and fire and pain.

"Oi! Bartender! Vodka. Straight. Now."

It wasn't often he spoke at bars and when he did it was never much. He made that a point. For one thing, he thought it made things too personal, too fast. Not to mention he was strange enough as it was, being albino.

The bartender looked startled but slid him the shot and took the paper slapped onto the bar. As he ordered another, the thought floated into the back of him mind. He threw the second shot back to erase it again.

"_When did it come to this?"_

* * *

_{'kay guys, here's what's up. This was a school assignment so no shipping. This is also set up oddly. I feel like it's set where they're all immortal but human-ish? _Maybe they're all nations but don't ever talk to each other! _Whatever. Take it as you will, and hopefully you'll bear through to the end-_ Which is awesome! _Sure. R&R. _Thanks! - _Cor _& Core out!}


	2. Over and Over

**Over and Over**

_Chapter Two_

Francis wondered often when this had lost control. The thought was, however, arbitrary and flittered into the fog clouding his judgment in moments. He lost himself.

Later, he would wonder if he could say he was happy. Would he be lying if he said he was happy, the way things were? He couldn't really call it wondering. He knew he wasn't happy. But, he would decide for the fourth time that week, that was okay. The tears drying on his cheeks would tell otherwise. The empty wine bottles and broken glass would tell otherwise. The clothing thrown angrily into the washing machine would tell otherwise. They always did.

He would resolve to not let this go on. His resolve would shrivel and die in his throat the next night. The knock on his door would weaken his defences, begin erasing his prepared speech and the smile behind the door shattered the walls every time.

He wasn't happy. He wondered if he would be happier without this. He wondered if he could be happy. He doubted it. Sometimes the thought made him feel cheap, made him feel used, made him feel betrayed. Every morning the feelings returned. He would sigh and spend too long in a too hot shower trying to wash away the memories of fading years and foggy weeks. Every morning.

Sometimes, though, he felt nothing in the mornings. On those mornings he would call his two best friends and they would rush to his house. They never asked, or tried deliberately to make him feel better. They would talk and laugh. They would be carefree, though none of the three ever really were. The lie would make him feel better. The smiles would make him forget for a time.

But the memory of the night before always came back the moment the two left. They would rush back, a flood to drown him and pull him away from the shambles he had let his life become. It would be all he could do to keep hold of himself. Every time.

He sighed, and his eyes flickered open. He curled into a ball as he watched the door close once again and whispered to the wood.

"_When did we come to this?"_


	3. As I Lose Myself

**As I Lose Myself**

_Chapter Three_

Antonio smiled absently as soft earth squished beneath bare feet. He barely registered the heavy woven basket at his hip. He hummed softly as he walked. Every day he came out here for hours. Every day, he let the time pass him by, trying to erase the memories of his greatest defeat in the soft green glow of sun and plant and earth and sky and insect and himself. The hot sun he toiled in had long ago burned his skin a permanent light golden tan.

He smiled absently and set the basket on his kitchen table. He didn't take the time to put away the scarlet fruit, instead simply taking another tightly woven basket and returning. Over and over, he collected basket after basket. For hours he toiled. Satisfied at last, he set about preserving, making dinner, and storing his prize. He nearly made dinner for two before he remembered the child was long gone. He shook off the fleeting desire to shower off the sweat of a day's work in half.

Instead, he set out again, desperately wiping away memory after memory. They reformed faster than he could shake them away. Carefully he tended his vast garden. Lovingly he clipped dead leaves and buds, apologizing to each plant for taking away a little bit of already lost life every time the blades closed. He watered when it did not rain and drained the earth when it did not shine. He planted flowers to attract lady bugs and flowers to repel rabbits. He loved his garden.

He lost track of time until it was too late. He lost track of his life until it was too late. He lost track of years. He never lost track of his friends, though. The two men were all he had outside this garden, now. _Wasn't that a bad thing?_ He shrugged, wiped away the thought and stroked a leaf.

The pure smile he turned on the plants was unlike any he showed for a human. Sometimes he slept in the garden, when it was warm and wasn't expected to rain. He had made sure that his bedroom window opened out into the area the garden would be when he bought the house. Sometimes he had to make sure they were okay at night. He figured that they could get lonely. Sometimes he just had to slip out and visit them. Sometimes he got lonely too. Most of the time, he got lonely too.

He always had his cell phone on him, though. Not that it mattered most of the time, he knew. No one called, at least, not often. He was glad. He didn't think the plants liked the ringing very much. He didn't think they liked his attention taken from them. He was theirs and they were his. He had promised though. He had promised his best friends. Even through the fog of his garden, and all the half forgotten horror, that thought penetrated his mind. He had promised the two people he had grown up with. He had promised the two people that understood. He had promised the two people who would never tell him to give up his garden, who would never tell him the memories were important enough to keep despite the pain. He had promised. So he kept his phone on and charged at all times and simply wondered.

"_When did I come to this?"_


	4. Big Girls Don't Cry

**Big Girls Don't Cry**

_Chapter Four_

Feliks didn't look at the animals, his beloved animals. Today, the horses reminded him of things he would rather not remember. Even if they would never reject him he couldn't handle remembering. The pain inside was churning and boiling. It was like something that lived.

He wasn't a confident man. He wasn't a bold man. He wasn't large or intimidating or even mildly charismatic. He wished he was. He was so afraid of social situations he tried his very hardest to avoid them all. Even the ones he shouldn't.

He sighed sadly. He picked at the hem of his pink cardigan. He brought his knees to his chest. He set his chin on his knees. He stretched out on the bench. He turned his back to the world. He closed his eyes tight. He pressed his face into the wood. Nothing stopped the hurt and the fear. And the anger. Nothing stopped the anger, rising like bile in his throat and gripping at his lungs.

He sat up. He tended the horses. He rode the horses. He fed the horses. He went inside. He wandered about. He baked cookies. He changed his clothes. He cleaned the bathroom. He cleaned the living room. He cleaned the kitchen. He ate the cookies. He stood in front of the phone. He stared at it. He wondered if he could call. He wondered if the other would answer. Nothing stopped the hurt and the fear.

He sighed and eventually settled in his bedroom. He shucked his shirt and pulled on a soft, pink robe. He settled into a ball on his bed. He wondered if they knew that he heard what they said. He wondered if they would stop if they knew. He doubted it.

He sighed again. He knew that the words of people he didn't really like very much in the first place shouldn't hurt as much as they did. He knew what they said of him. He had said them all of himself once. 'Flamboyant' by the nice ones, far worse by the others.

It had been a long time since he had questioned his grip on his sexuality. He had embraced it. He had killed himself inside over and over until he came to the conclusion acceptance was the only way because honestly he had more important things to do than sit around hating himself. And now the others said the same things he had. The few people he knew that didn't care didn't stand up for him, they didn't care about him or his taste in colours. The ones that cared were too few to make a difference in their defence of him. They had all been tentative friends once. _When did that change? _And even more so he wondered something else.

"_When did they come to this?"_


	5. Sweet Dreams

**Sweet Dreams**

_Chapter Five_

Søren didn't feel like he was stuck in the past. That's what they all said, though. That's what everyone told him, day after day after day never resting or stopping. So what if he wanted his glory days back? So what if he felt like an outsider with anyone but the two others like him? It wasn't his fault. The world just moved to fast for him. He was old. He had seen things these children couldn't imagine. Not in this 'civilized' age. He didn't want to act his age, he never wanted to act his age, why would anyone want to act their age it was horrid to act like an old man, who did that. He wanted to be him again. He knew that's how the other two felt too. He wanted to be great again. He had been a king once. He had ruled over beautiful, expansive lands. He had been unstoppable. He had been ruthless. He had been happy. So had the other two, he knew, he remembered. He was falling behind. The one was jumping ahead. The other had already lost. The world moved too quickly. He just wanted to fall asleep and remember the old days. He wanted that again. So what if it consumed him a little? He never thought that he was back. He never thought there was a way to get back. He wasn't stupid or delusional, despite what others may think. He knew what they said about him. He knew it all. He didn't care. He wanted it back. He wanted the glory. So what if he found his glory in the bottom of a pint? So what if he was louder than the others? He was yelling at the world because no one was listening and he knew it. He knew he wasn't the only one and he refused to loose, no offense to his friend. Where did they get off telling him not to live in the past anyway? They were the same idiots touting that history was the key to the future! He wasn't angry. He never really got angry. He could never let himself be truly angry. People died when he got angry and e didn't want that now. Not anymore. So he didn't get angry. Not when they told him he 'had a problem'. Not when they told him to get help. Not when they locked him up. Not when he was out. Not when he saw them again. He was never really angry. Not really. Just upset. He had a right to be upset! They thought him crazy. He wasn't crazy. He was lonely. He was sad. He was out of his time. He was a relic. He knew. He didn't want to be in this new time.

He sighed and tugged at the stiff tie. He was supposed to wear it to the important meeting today. He had forgotten who he was to be meeting with. He felt stiff in these clothes. He felt like another person. He felt stupid and blue collar and snotty and he just wanted to call up the other two and have a nice drink. His eyes caught on an old, crumbling painting. He sighed and shut the door behind him, cursing softly under his breath.

"_When did the world come to this?"_

* * *

___{I know it's generally Mathias. I know. I needed it for clarity later. You'll understand if you finish it. Thanks. - Cor out.}_


	6. Invisible

**Invisible**

_Chapter Six_

Matthew effectively glared down the barrel. He wanted nothing more than to have more to do than this, something more important, or at least more interesting. He wanted to have a friend. The animals up here weren't often very friendly. Especially not when the shot rang out and the bull fell. He stood and meandered over to the moose.

He spent his days like this. Every day he shot his dinner. He had made jerky, and stew. There were a couple of moose heads in his house. He found them incredibly tacky, but he wasn't going to waste them.

He gathered the huge thing and tossed it in his truck. When he got home he cleaned and stripped it for the meat. He used to be slightly disgusted at the idea of having an animal fur in his home. He didn't mind anymore; they were warm.

He meandered to the couch. There were a few furs here too. He flipped through the channels until he found a game; locals. He longed for a good spat between the capital city teams. Ontario had a long running quarrel with Québec and the teams were vicious.

He wondered if anyone remembered he existed anymore. His own twin had long ago forgotten him up here. He was lonely, but he didn't mind much. That was always a lie. He minded a lot. There was simply nothing he could do, so he had to deal with it.

He wondered and meandered and yawned and sauntered and sighed and shuffled around his house. He wondered if he really considered it home. Not that it mattered. And not that he didn't consider it home. It was home. It was just too large for one person. Or even two people.

No one ever remembered him. He had met people he had hoped would. They didn't. His father remembered, sometimes. On his birthdays and sometimes just because, his father would call. He wished that more people called. He liked to be alone. He did not like being lonely.

He sighed and flopped out across his bed. The hunting had cut back on his bills. The heating went down a lot. He had more furs than he really knew what to do with. He wasn't in the house as often as before. He didn't turn on a lot of lights. The electric went down a bit. He didn't need a refrigerator for preserving his meat. He lived in _Northern_ Ontario now. He lived in a refrigerator.

He wondered how many people would even come to his funeral. He wondered if his brother would come. Would he remember? Maybe they would send him a letter and he would remember. Papa would come. He wondered if it was sad that the only person he knew for sure would come to his funeral was his father. He wondered... He fell asleep wondering.

"_When did I become this?"_


	7. Good Bye and Good Riddance

**Good Bye And Good Riddance**

_Chapter Seven_

Ivan's mind was his own perfect enemy. It was his worst nightmare and his inescapable prison. He would never be rid of it, he knew that much at least. He could never be rid of it. The voices clamouring inside of his head were deafening. He wasn't like that. He never wanted to hurt anyone. They were so loud. They were drowning out his personality, his thoughts.

No. No stop! He didn't want this. He never wanted this. He was good. He was kind. He loved animals, he didn't hurt them. He hated to hurt people; he didn't smile when they screamed. He loved sunflowers and the warmth of the sun and the company of his friends and his sisters. He would never hurt someone. He would never. Never!

This wasn't him.

He wanted someone to notice the changes. His own sisters didn't seem to see or understand his distress. It had happened so very long ago, he wondered if they knew this wasn't him

He was melting.

No one saw. No. No that was wrong. Two saw. The one hated him. And no wonder. He had hurt the man. The albino had stared at him with blank eyes and asked why he hadn't killed him yet, told him that he just wanted to die and for him to get over it. The man stared at with those same eyes. They weren't blank or dull. They were fire. They were fire. They were blood. They were him. They were what he would become. The other was inside him. It laughed. He cried out in his sleep for it to go away. He wasn't a bad person.

He screamed out loud as scarlet stained his hands once more. His eyes flew open.

"_Why have I become this?"_


	8. May It Be

**May It Be**

_Chapter Eight_

Lili had kept smiling as her world tumbled down around her ears. She had kept smiling when she was sure she was going to die. And she kept smiling now. Her brother was yelling. Not at her, of course, never at her. No, he was yelling at their cousin. She just kept smiling.

She isn't an idiot. Despite what some of the others seemed to think. She knew what happened around her. So maybe she wasn't really affected by most of the economies crashing. So maybe she technically lived in the richest country in the world. That didn't mean she didn't know it was happening. She knew exactly what was going on.

Her brother cried sometimes. At night when she would get out of bed for a glass of water, she could hear him. She never got her glass of water. She would go back to her own room and cry. She wanted to ask him what hurt him so much. She wanted to make it better. She wanted to repay the debt he always protested was nonexistent.

Those nights the memories haunted her. She loved her brother. She felt horrid for having imposed on him. He had taken her in when neither of them had any food and had fed her. He had taken her in. She wondered if he had taken her in because he was lonely.

She had been lonely too. Sometimes she was still a little lonely. Mostly, she simply wished she wasn't such a burden. She was always a burden. Her brother protected her, and housed her and she could do nothing for him.

She excuses herself, smiling oh-so happily. She was tired, she says. She is so tired. She isn't very old. Not yet. But she feels old. Her brother protects her. He also keeps away the rest of the family. She had been friends, a little bit, tentatively, with one of her cousins. He was loud but still nice. Her brother had driven her cousin away, he had driven away all of their cousins. Her brother always treated her like a child. She is not a child! She is so angry. She is so frustrated. She is so very alone.

She doesn't know what to do. She lets her mind wander as she flees, and finds herself heading for the mountains. She doesn't realise she is crying until the tears fall from her chin and splatter against her collar bone. And then she can't stop. She is on the ground now, shaking and crying. No, she isn't crying anymore, she's sobbing; her body shakes and the sounds she makes are so desperate and so alone.

She can't help but think that nothing she will ever be able to do will be enough to repay him for everything he has done and is doing for her. Sometimes, like right now, she feels so stupid. All she can do is be happy in the face of despair and hope, _hope_ that having at least a little light in his home could help lift her brother up. It's pathetic. She's pathetic.

The words drift through her mind. She's pathetic. She'd never thought of it, but now as she did, the more she realises that it is true. She's pathetic. She is so pathetic.

"I'm pathetic." Her shaking slows. Her eyes grow wide. The tears flow faster, but she is silent. Slowly she lifts herself from the ground and turns back towards the house. There was nothing she could do, now. All she could do was be happy for him and she can't even do that right. She sighs and wipes the tears away. Blue eyes grow dull, soft face blank.

"_When did I fall to this?"_


	9. The End is Nigh - When They Are Young

**When The Wicked Are Young**

_The End_

The young men were a scattered bunch. Not a one came here for the same thing. They came for the help they thought they could get nowhere else. They all seemed to know each other. They didn't all seem to like one another.

They were all lonely, in their own way. The faces that first day were the faces of men on the edge. They were the faces of men with nowhere to go and no one to turn to but each other, no matter how reluctantly they may do so.

Over the weeks that followed, they learned to trust each other. Little by little, they grew into a family. It was a strange sort. Some had been friends for ages. Some had been enemies for ages. Some would never have thought of speaking to each other if not for this. Some built relationships and loves even over the many, long weeks.

They learned to let their walls down. They never did anything but talk. There were no formal introductions. There were no formal 'I have a problem's. They learned together, that this was a safe place. They learned each other. This was not the office of a physiatrist. They were not being studied, or judged. They were there to become friends. They were there to learn.

It took longer for some than others. Gilbert is a stubborn, falsely arrogant man who has been hurt many times. He desperately struggles to forget the many times he has been betrayed. He desperately tries to forgive those who have betrayed him. He was a soldier once and seems to have slight Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He never judged, however he also did not speak. He smiled with encouragement, even at the few members he had once held grudges against. He seemed to be the most emotionally effected by the stories of the others, often displaying more emotion while listening to the others than anywhere else. It took months for him to speak a word, months more for him to speak any truth about an emotion and even longer still for him to reveal his reason for being there. He's still very arrogant outside of the meeting room.

Francis was also reluctant to spill his secrets. He did not want to admit how much he was hurting, how much his love was destroying him inside. He kept insisting he was fine and happy and he wasn't sure why he had walked in here in the first place. The day he let his walls fall, Gilbert had taken his hand and Antonio had set a hand on his shoulder. The three enter the meeting room together each day. Francis has relaxed and at last began to trust the others. He is helpful and smooth with his words when he spoke to the others. He seemed happier once he had relieved himself of the secret agony in his heart.

Antonio seems to be an absent minded, somewhat unintelligent man. This could not be further from the truth. He easily trusted the others with his obsession, though he himself never used the word, but was reluctant to take advice. He smiles a lot and sometimes makes comments to further the belief that he is absent minded. However, when asked advice he gives surprisingly adept and shrew wisdom. He has a way of getting directly to the heart of a problem and giving perfect advice. He is slowly beginning to accept the phrase used by Francis: 'severely debilitating obsession.'

Feliks is a very shy young man. He has been hurt many times and is very slow to trust. He seemed to be soothed many a time by the soft, encouraging smiles the others would give him. He eventually told the group many of the things he knew were said of him and was surprised by Gilbert's silent arms wrapping him gently in a hug and Søren's hand on his. The other members were horrified by some of the things said about the man. He has been a lively and entertaining member of the group with never a cruel word from that point on.

Søren is a friend of Gilbert's and aquatinted with many of the others. He is older than the others, even older than Ivan by some small amount of years and has never truly taken to the newer ways. He is somewhat sullen and sad when not speaking of his past and covers it with a very fake and obnoxious narcissism. He is vibrant, happy and overly exuberant when he does speak of his past. He is slowly integrating into the modern age with the help of the others, specifically Lili as she Skype's the meetings.

Matthew is the youngest man in the group. He is a polite and somewhat forgettable man, though he is very depressed and has intense self esteem issues. He also seems as though too much more pressure will break him and someone could, quite literally, end up dead. However, his sharp wit and sarcastic comments have made a lasting impression on some of the other members. Most notably, Gilbert and Ivan have become good friends to him. Matthew's terror of being forgotten and alone is slowly being eased by. They do not ever start without every member there, no matter how late and have never forgotten him.

Ivan is a very troubled man. He seems to have some sort of Dissociative Personality Disorder Psychosis thing going on. He will sometimes experience entire body takeovers. When this happens in group everyone tries their hardest to calm him. Gilbert has run afoul of this other 'personality' before and seems to have an intimate knowledge of what triggers him as well as what calms him. He seems to be getting better, as we have seen these switches are coming fewer, even with things that previously triggered a change. Ivan is a happy man with always a good word to say and a smile for everyone. The other personality is slightly homicidal and incredibly sadistic.

Lili is such a sweet girl. She is Gilbert's cousin but only knew the names of his friends. She Skype's the sessions; she is too far away in Liechtenstein to attend physically. The men try very hard to keep her from feeling outcast. She is overly empathetic and can sense and identify the emotion in a room very quickly. She has a strict sense of honour, though she downplays it very much. Her honour makes her need to do something for her brother in return for protecting her. She is severely depressed and has taken the longest of all the other members to trust her peers. She has taken to Ivan surprisingly well and her sweet nature seems to have a calming effect for him.

There is one question these people all share, despite their differences. They are haunted by the things they do, the people they've driven away, the things they may do. Every person in that room asks the same question over and over of themselves and of others. No one ever as an answer but slowly they are learning to live with their question.

"_Why?"_

* * *

_{See why we didn't have it Mathias? Thanks for reading all the way through this, I guess. R&R._

_Sorry for the long breaks in between everything, now. I know we didn't update regularly anyway, but Core and I got accepted to a really intense school and.. Yeah, neither of us have been writing much. Sorry for the personal things. Meh._

_If you actually care or want to read some of our original stuff, just message. We've a tumblr.. Or three._

_Thanks for putting up with us. - Cor out}_


End file.
